A Day in the Life
by Wendish
Summary: A ones hot snapshot examining life with a teenage daughter.


__Created May 2014 - __I don't own the characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts and Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings.____

____A/N: 05/12/2014 - A quickie to get my fingers back in motion. Just a one-shot.____

* * *

"Bones?"

"Bones?"

Booth sighed as he walked toward the Anthropologist's Cave.

He could tell that she was in there by the pecking sound of her hands assaulting the keyboard. He knew that she didn't have on her headphones, she probably was just engrossed in what she was doing. When a dialogue storm struck, it was hard to distract her from her purpose.

_Sure enough_, he said to himself as he peeked into her office. Furiously, she stabbed at the keys, her body locked in a slight hunch as the characters spilled onto the page before her. Though he could not see, he was certain that her darting eyes were examining, correcting, and approving sentences in perfect harmony with the rhythm of her fingertips and the melody of her brain.

Or at least trying to.

He watched her silently, patiently waiting for the moment to come. After living together for 14 years, he knew her tells. If he waited, it would come.

Briefly, he turned his eyes back to the hallway. As expected, there stood Christine. Leaning, actually, was a better description. Her forehead and shoulder kissed the wall as she traced an invisible outline in the floor with her toe. Feeling her Dad's glare, she looked up from her footwork, sheepishly anxious for him to fix the mess that she created. She dug her hands further into the back pockets of her jeans, pursing her mouth in the adorable way her mother did.

"Pitiful." He muttered, softly enough not to disturb his wife, but loud enough for his daughter to hear. Christine withered at her father's barb. Dad may have been coming to her rescue, but she knew that he was none too pleased with the circumstances that required his special touch. Her eyes pooled with tears of guilt, relieved that he had turned his head back into the Cave.

_There. _

After another minute or so, Booth finally saw it. The hunch in his wife's shoulders finally eased and her whole body seemed to sigh several times as she read through the words on the page.

_Her perfect words. Uh-oh…nope – she's shaking her head. Well, shit, I'm gonna risk it. _

Lightly, Booth tapped on the door before entering. "Hey Bones." He said quietly.

She turned towards him, cloaked anguish on her face. Briskly, she attempted to reset her appearance, but the best she could muster was a sad smile. "Hi Booth."

Biting her lip, she resisted the temptation to call for his embrace. _I will be strong _she said to herself, though she weakened with every step that he took toward her. Nervously, she fidgeted. "It must be later than I thought. I wasn't expecting you home until 5:30. What time is it?" She turned back toward her screen as he approached, ostensibly, to save the file that she had been working on, but in actuality, in an attempt to mask her sadness.

His fingers combed through her hair while he simultaneously reached for the backless rolling stool stationed beside her, furthest from the door. "It's only 3:45." He grunted as he sat down behind her. "Game' had a rain delay, so I just dropped Parker and Joey off at National, and me and Henry came home." He swept her hair to one side to place a tender kiss on her neck. "No use in waiting for the game to resume with a cranky toddler. The boys are gonna take an earlier flight to Boston to get back home to Little Miss Fertile quicker."

Even with the mood she was in, Brennan couldn't help but giggle at the feel of Booth's lips tickling her neck. That, plus his ever-changing eye-roll plus nickname for Parker's girlfriend.

"Stop calling her that Booth, she is no more fertile than an average twenty-five year old…" she cautioned, pulling her hair into a quick ponytail...in case her husband was so inclined to kiss her neck again.

"Hmph." Booth pulled Brennan's chair between his legs as far as it could go. He slipped his hands around her waist. With one last kiss behind her ear, he rested his head on her shoulder. "Three kids in three years? Bones, its 2025! People their age are just getting around to moving out of Mom and Dad's house! You and I hadn't even met at their age, and they've got three kids." He grumbled.

Comforted by the familiarity of his good-natured fussing and the warmth of his closeness, Brennan covered his arms with her own. "They have one child, and twins on the way, Booth." She corrected, leaning her head onto his. His proximity always soothed her. "Or, should I say, Grumpa?" she added with a snicker.

Booth groaned. "You know Rebecca's never getting forgiven for that one! _'Grumpa'._" He sighed as Brennan continued to chuckle. "I just figured that by the time Joe was old enough to talk, I would have mentioned 'PopPop' enough times that it would override her smear campaign."

"I like it," Brennan defended. "And so do you! You must admit, it fits with your personality." She teased, squirming as Booth's fingers poked into her sides. "Stop!"

"I know you like it, _Nana B._" his kissed her cheek.

"And Joey loves it. He gets so excited when he calls to you. 'Grumpa', "Grumpa!'" Brennan mocked her grandchild's voice, nuzzling her nose against his cheek as she teased.

"He does love me, doesn't he?" Booth raved. "Hands down – I am so the favorite grandparent!" he boasted.

"You're the favorite always, Booth." Brennan encouraged, clearing her throat.

A beat of silence passed between them.

Booth kissed her shoulder. Brennan looked up, trying to hold back an unexpected set of tears.

"I spoke with Christine." Booth said quietly.

"It's not her fault Booth." Brennan defended. "While I'm convinced that I made the correct decision, I, I- wasn't sensitive to her point of view." Her voice trembled as she spoke. "I had…forgotten how overwhelming one's emotions can be at that age."

Booth hugged his wife tightly. "No you didn't, Bones. You could probably accurately guess her neurotransmitter activity at any given moment, Babe." He whispered into her ear. "She told me what she said. She told me that she said she hated you…that she wished you were a normal mom." Brennan blinked, her tears falling onto Booth's hands.

"She didn't mean it." Brennan defended, her words barely audible. "I know that she didn't mean it."

Booth inhaled the scent of his wife. "That doesn't mean that it didn't hurt you Bones. I know **_you_**. I know it's hard sometimes. I know how you worry if you're being a good mom. Well, hear me Bones…you're an amazing Mom, Babe! Christine and Henry are the luckiest kids on Earth. And don't tell me that I can't quantify it. I **_know_**. I see it every day…."

"I didn't know what to say. " Brennan started, choking on her words. "I stated my position, but she was furious that I wouldn't let her go to an unchaperoned party. As she became angrier, I...I became even more curt with her. And then she said what she said…"

"I didn't mean it Mommy" wailed a sobbing Christine. Her parents turned to see their daughter lingering in the doorway. "I didn't mean it!"

"Christine…" Brennan began before being tackled by her daughter.

Booth slid his chair back slightly to allow his girls some space. He sighed, realizing this was just the beginning of a puberty's worth of disagreements to come. And what a doozy Christine Brennan would be. Their daughter was so very much the both of them – Brennan's beauty and brains; Booth's impulsiveness, acerbic tongue, and heavy heart.

In Dr. Sweets' psychological terms, she was destined to be a basket case.

He patted the backs of the symmetrical figures, both mother and daughter sporting matching ponytails, both clasped to each other in a desperate embrace. Christine was the first to stir.

"I'm sorry. I know that you trust me Mommy." (Christine only used "Mommy" when she was feeling vulnerable or regretful). "I know that you're only trying to protect me." She cried. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you." She hiccuped. "I love you so much! I don't want you to be normal. _I love_ that you're a genius."

Brennan simply held onto her daughter. "I wish that I was better able to communicate my feelings to you Christine." Brennan confessed. "I'm glad that you understand my perspective. I just wish…I wish that it wasn't so difficult for me to express to you my concerns." She sniffled. "I really am trying to understand you better-"

"Mooooooom!" Christine whined. "I"m a teenager. I'm supposed to be impossible, remember?"

Booth snorted while Christine kicked off a Temperance Brennan-inspired explanation of the chemical, physical and emotional impacts of puberty. Brennan cut him a brief scolding glance, but mostly nodded with pride at her daughter's accurate recitation.

But before she got too deep into her explanation of her hormonal response to Josh Sanderson, Booth cut her off.

"Whoa!" he interceded. "Your Dad so does not need to hear any of this….ever! Do you understand?" he threatened. "Unless you want me to kill the kid, no hormone nothing, okay?"

"Okay. Grumpa!" Christine teased, wiping her eyes.

"That's enough from you, Squirt." He threatened. "Are you guys good?"

Mutual ponytails and a matching set of watery blue eyes nodded at him.

"I'd be happy to host a graduation party here at the house for you instead, Christine. I just feel far more comfortable knowing that responsible oversight was present. You could invite all of your classmates who will be attending the raider." Brennan patted her daughter's hip, signaling her to stand up.

"Rager, Mom." Christine corrected. She considered her mother's suggestion. "Dad has to promise not to walk in showing off his shooting targets…"

Brennan stood up, both she and Christine frowning at Booth.

"Fine!" he acquiesced.

"And he cannot talk to Josh without me or you being present!" she added. "And Grandpa Max can't threaten any of the boys with his 'I got away with murder once' stories." She warned, looking at her mother.

"I'll see what I can do." Brennan nodded, slightly worried that she could control her father. They headed towards the door.

"And I would have to pick out what you're wearing. You know how boys my age are. You have to tone down your hotness, Mom. No MILF stuff."

"Okay...but what about your father? It's going to be very difficult to dilute his attractiveness. Trust me, it's very – in the vernacular – creepy, when your schoolmates gawk at your Dad. At least Booth wasn't a teacher like my Dad was…Booth? Are you coming?"

Booth stared back lovingly amazed at his wife and daughter. _Waterworks on. Waterworks off._ "Hmmm? Uh, yup. Just give me a sec okay? I'm going to check to see if the Natties finished up their game." He grinned pushing Brennan's chair out of the way as he clicked to open a browser.

Christine frowned as she thought further on what to do with her Dad. "We could get him to sing karaoke." She reasoned. "That'll definitely knock down his hottie points."

"I love how your father sings!" Brennan protested as the pair left Booth's sight. "He's very passionate about it. While I'll agree that vocally, he is terrible, I find his stage presence very arousing."

"Mother…just, ew." Christine whined.

Booth laughed as his two girls continued into the kitchen, their voices slipping further an further away from earshot. The last thing that he was able to detect was that Henry had just gotten caught in the snack cabinet. _Like father, like son. _

After one brief, unconscious look to the door, he clicked open the document that Brennan had been typing.

As he expected, his wife had been trying to construct a dialogue for how she **_had _**wanted her conversation with Christine to go. She had become a best-selling author based upon her her imagination's ability to construct the perfect words that her mouth struggled to form. But in this instance, she had written four different approaches, none of which seemed to capture the delicate intricacies of life with a teenage daughter.

_Huh! Nice try Bones._ Booth laughed to himself. _You, my genius wife, can solve a murder with just a tooth, but it'd be easier to build a better mousetrap than to solve the riddle of a teenage girl. _

He was about to shut down the computer, but at the last moment he established a secure line into the FBI VPN.

_J-o-s-h_S-a-n-d..._

* * *

A/N2: A belated Happy Mother's Day to all those traditional and non traditional mother's out there devoted to creating and growing quality human beings. Keep doing what you do!


End file.
